


The Two Lives of Emily Richter

by Catricious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clones, Marauders era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catricious/pseuds/Catricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not Marauders. Severus Snape was not the first spy in Death Eater ranks. However, his predecessors were discovered and killed, leaving their daughter Emily in a dangerous position. Dumbledore, however, has a plan. Enrol her at Hogwarts, give her two new bodies, and hey presto, complications arise and start dancing, just out of reach so you can't hit them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Two Lives of Emily Richter

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story two years ago, and I'm still re-writing the first chapters over and over. So, uh, don't expect it to be finished any time soon. Anyway, if you're still reading this, please leave a review!

Emily Richter sat back in the worn lounge that occupied her parent's sitting room. It had been a quiet day, by all accounts, despite the dangerous reality that was her existence. Her parents were both branded with the Dark Mark, but had kept Emily a secret from the world, including Voldemort, until she was 13. At that point, her parents had quietly contacted Albus Dumbledore in order to switch sides. They had joined the Death Eaters when they were barely out of Hogwarts, years later regretting their decision, and they realised that their daughter would never be safe with the Dark Lord around.

Dumbledore agreed to help them, and they were now spies for the Order of the Phoenix, working against the Death Eaters from within.

It had been two years since the alliance with Albus Dumbledore had been forged. Emily had been home-schooled for years, with tutoring from Dumbledore for the last two Summers. Her education would have been at a Sixth-Year level at Hogwarts, but she had a natural talent for Charms, Transfiguration and Potion-making that rivalled eight-year expectations. She needed, however, to have more knowledge than what her parents could provide. She needed more time to debate with Dumbledore over the intricacies of permanent enchantments. She needed to be around other people her age, she needed…

A cup of tea.

And with this thought, Emily stood, and walked into the kitchen to prepare just that. She lazily flicked her wand at the kettle to boil water, and summoned a teabag and mug, placing the former inside the latter, and this on the kitchen bench. By this time, the water was boiling, and she reached across to pick up the kettle and poured just the right amount of the scalding hot liquid into the mug. You needed to be finicky with details if you were ever going to brew potions successfully.

A muttered spell caused cold milk to pour from her wand, and Emily smiled, satisfied that her tea was high art. She carefully carried the mug back into the sitting room, where it sat, cooling on the coffee table. Emily herself sat, content to wait a minute or two so as not to burn her taste buds from her tongue.

There was a knock on the door. She sighed. Leaving her tea on the table, she walked down the hall to her father's office, and alerted him to the fact that they had visitors. It was standard procedure for a household with no elves to have the head greet any guests, while the other family members stayed out of the way.

What was not standard was the cry of surprise that came from her father when he reached these guests. Interested, Emily leaned towards the hallway, where she could hear what was going on. The sounds of a body hitting the floor and the teacup smashing reached her ears, and her eyes widened.

"You dare to betray the Dark Lord?" A female voice screamed. "CRUCIO!"

Her father's cries galvanised Emily into action. She swallowed thickly and ran softly on the carpeted floor to her mother, who looked both furious and terrified.

"Go," her mother whispered urgently. " Run, get to the park. I contacted Dumbledore, he knows to meet you there. Don't let anyone see you. If they don't know you exist already, they will when they find you bedroom and any photos of you. They'll look for you. Be careful-"

Her mother was cut off by an agonised scream. Looking distraught, she pushed a portkeyed spoon into Emily's hands. "The password's 'asleep'. I love you." And with those parting words, Genevieve Richter pulled out her wand and strode into the living room to defend her family.

"Asleep," Emily gasped, and was portkeyed to a Muggle library somewhere. Emily quickly recovered from portkeying, and took in her surroundings. The emergency escape plan her parents had drilled into her took over, and she marched to the A-F shelf in the children's section. Browsing titles briskly, she pulled out a book about an elephant losing his balloon. She scanned the pages quickly, recognised the password, and checked that the library was empty.

"Lemonade," She intoned, then something hooked onto her midsection and she was pulled to a riverbank.

She found the sandal quickly. This took her to an empty parking garage, where a plastic bag was tied to a rock. The word 'Neanderthal' transported her once more, to the designated park.

Emily scanned the area for signs of danger, and when she found none set off for a mass of bushes several metres from the playground, still carrying the used portkeys. She transfigured the spoon into a small, camouflaged tent, where she buried it in the bushes for safe-keeping. Satisfied with her hiding spot, she walked three streets away and transfigured the bag into a realistic dummy of herself. It was enchanted to walk in the direction she faced it towards until the charm wore off, which would be around two hours later.

She turned, walked back to the park, and continued for several blocks, then performed the same magic on the sandal. Programming the book-turned-Emily to walk another direction, she now had three decoys walking away from her position, and getting further. Emily returned to the park, crawled into her improvised shelter, and cast disillusionment and notice-me-not charms on herself and the tent.

She sat in silence for over an hour, until Albus Dumbledore apparated underneath the swings with a loud crack.

The ageing wizard turned to her, ignoring her perfect concealment charms, and held out an arm.

"Emily, my dear, come quickly. It would not be wise to stay here any longer."

Emily dropped the protections she had been maintaining and ran for the familiar safety of Dumbledore's presence, tears staining her pale cheeks. Ignoring his arm, she hugged him as tightly as she dared, seeking comfort. The ancient wizard moved one hand to rest on her back, and dissaparated.

They reappeared in a room that Emily took to be Dumbledore's office, on the desk were dozens of spinning, shiny mechanisms- whose purposes, she knew for a fact, were completely useless- and to one side was an open cabinet displaying a Pensieve.

The ageing headmaster gently pushed her into a chair, as her body didn't seem to want to move on its own, and sat behind his desk.

"Are my parents…" She broke off, unable to continue.

"They were killed. I'm sorry." Dumbledore answered her. They sat still for a long time, him regarding her with sadness in his timeless eyes, and her frozen from shock, absorbing the events of that evening.

They had been frozen for so long that Emily jumped when Dumbledore moved to offer her a lemon drop. She stared at him for a long moment, then took two from the bowl.

As she popped them into her mouth, systematically pushing each to one side with her tongue, he leant back into his chair and drew a breath to speak.

"Emily, I trust you know what a Pensieve is, and how one works?"

She nodded once, still partly focused on the lemon drops in her mouth.

"Would you be willing to give me a copy of your memories of this evening, so that I may view them?"

Emily paused in her sugar-based machinations, and, now fully focused on Dumbledore, nodded again.

Drawing his wand, Dumbledore stood and walked around the desk to stand beside her, pointing his wand-tip to her temple. She gasped as the silvery memory left her head with the wand-tip, the sensation was oddly like having her head plunged temporarily into cold water, yet somehow not unpleasant.

"Help yourself to the lemon drops." With a parting nod, the wizard put the memory delicately into the Pensieve, closely followed by his face.


End file.
